


Seven Ficlets for Valentine's Day

by RedOrchid



Category: Bandom
Genre: Crack, In the Last Part that Is, M/M, Say It with Beer, Say It with Cupcakes, Say It with Glitter, Say It with Kinky Toys, Say It with Power Rangers, Say It with Weed, The One Where They Are All Cleaning Appliances, so much crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-14
Updated: 2009-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-09 15:39:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedOrchid/pseuds/RedOrchid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven Valentine's ficlets, one for each possible combination of 2 people from Panic + bonus GSF where they are all cleaning appliances. Yes, really. There are also copious amounts of fluff. You have been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spencer/Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starbucks AU with pining and cupcakes. (G)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With a special hug to [](http://fannyt.livejournal.com/profile)[**fannyt**](http://fannyt.livejournal.com/), who should be very comfortable reading this. :-)

The cute barista is not standing in his usual spot behind the counter, and Spencer feels the smile he's been trying to supress for most of the morning slide off his face. It shouldn't matter, really. No big deal. It's not like they had a date or something. Hell, Spencer doesn't even know Cute Barista Guy's real name.

It's just... he'd been hoping. It's Valentine's Day, and yeah, maybe it's stupid, but Spencer's brain had sort of convinced itself that today was when things would change, when the familiar routine of _Hi, venti vanilla latte, right? Awesome. Be right up._ would segue into something else. Okay, so maybe the Cinderella-inspired impromptu love declaration and subsequent elopement had been a tiny bit on the unrealistic side (Spencer blames Brendon and his pink-and-sparkly view of the world, really he does), but there'd been a little voice inside him telling him that he wasn't crazy for hoping. And Spencer—because he's obviously a fucking romantic _idiot_ who needs to be slapped over the head—had believed it.

It hurts more than it reasonably should. Disappointment always comes with a little too sharp a taste. Spencer swallows it down as best he can, gets in line to order. Maybe he'll get a double espresso today. Something bitter and rich to cover the sudden self-loathing at the back of his tongue.

Really, it's fine. Who was he kidding, anyway?

He opens his mouth to place his order with the girl behind the counter, not even bothering to make eye contact, when a guy comes bounding over from the coffee station, a big smile on his face.

“Hang on. Cassie, I've got this. Could you cover for me with the coffee? Thanks.” He turns to Spencer, looking him up and down, smile fading a little, as though he's not quite sure of something.

“Hey, could you smile for me? Like, big, happy smile?”

Spencer just looks at him. Seriously, he doesn't even know this guy. What the fuck?

“Come on,” Increasingly Annoying Barista Guy coaxes. “I swear it's for a good cause, okay? Just, think of something that makes you happy.”

“Why?”

“Please? Just one smile. I'll throw in a free cookie.” The guy is really fucking annoying. Unfortunately, he also seems really fucking persistent. Spencer smiles. It probably looks like someone pulling apart their lips to show their teeth to the dentist.

“No, a real smile,” Annoying Guy protests. “Like, picture I was Jon, you know, the cute guy who usually works here? Jonathan Walker. The adorably scruffy one who looks like a sleep-tousled puppy?

_Jonathan Walker._

Spencer can't help the smile that spreads across his face. He has a name. He might not have a shot in hell to actually get somewhere with the guy, but... name. It's something.

“I knew it!” Annoying Guy exclaims, and Spencer looks up and stares because, really, _what the fuck_ is this guy's deal?

“I figured it was you from the moment you walked in,” the guy continues. “But you didn't smile, so I needed to check, and yeah. Friggin' sunshine, no joke. And here I thought Jon was just being a lovesick idiot.” He laughs delightedly. “Cassie! Venti vanilla latte. With a sprinkle of chocolate on top!”

“Um...” Spencer wishes he were able to make more coherent sounds come out of his mouth, but his brain seems to have suddenly short-circuited. _What...?_

“Here,” Now Annoyingly Cheerful Guy says happily, “This is for you. On the house.”

Spencer looks down. There's a cupcake on a small plate on the counter in front of him. Creamy chocolate frosting with a white chocolate heart on top. The plate is dusted with powdered sugar, the words _Happy Valentine's Day?_ written in curly, chocolate letters around the edge.

“Jon'll be back in about two hours,” the other guy says. “He had a class he had to go to or the professor threatened to fail his ass, but he asked me to tell you that if you aren't completely freaked out by this and considering turning him over to the police for being a creepy stalker, he'd love to take you out for dinner tonight.”

Spencer just stares. Then he blinks. This unfortunately does not seem to be rebooting his brain. He stares some more.

“Um... hello?” Okay So Maybe Not That Annoying Guy asks, waving his hand a little in front of Spencer's eyes. “You still with me, man?”

Spencer blinks again and somehow manages to remember how to speak.

“Yeah,” he says, shaking his head a little. “Yeah, yes. Sure.”

The other guy laughs. “'Yes' as in you'll go out with my friend and save me from having to piss of my girlfriend on Valentine's Day to stay in with him while he mopes over a pizza and laments the loss of perfect love?” he asks, and there's a definite teasing lilt to his voice now. Spencer finds himself grudgingly beginning to like this guy.

“Yeah.” And there's the smile taking over his face again, making his cheeks hurt a little.

“Awesome,” the guy says. “I'm Tom, by the way. Oh, and here's your latte.”

“Spencer,” Spencer says, taking the warm cup and trying not to spill coffee all over his hand. “Um... I'll just be over there, reading. I don't have any classes today, so...” He trails off, blushing hotly, becuase, really, could he be any more obvious?

“Great idea,” Tom replies. “You know, the cushy blue seat at the back to the left has a pretty good view of the street that goes between here and the art school. Just saying.”

Spencer mumbles something under his breath and leaves the counter. The cushy blue seat is soft and comfy, and Spencer kicks off his shoes and curls into it, sipping his coffee and staring for a long time at the cupcake in his hand before taking a first, careful lick at the frosting.

It tastes a little bit like happiness.


	2. Spencer/Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Established relationship. Morning sex with toys. (M)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for [](http://behindthec.livejournal.com/profile)[**behindthec**](http://behindthec.livejournal.com/) because I promised her dirty fic.

“Happy Valentine's Day.”

The words are soft and low against his ear. Brendon can't help the smile that spreads across his face. He rolls over on his back, pulls Ryan half on top of him and takes a morning kiss, warm and slow and just lazily perfect.

“Spencer is going to hate you. He bet Jon a hundred bucks that you would never say the v-word without a heavy dose of sarcasm or disapproval.”

Ryan stiffens against him. A year ago, Brendon would have got scared and tried to push, clinging to Ryan to bring him back. Now he just relaxes into the pillows and runs a finger gently over Ryan's spine, waiting for the tension to seep out of his muscles.

Ryan's like a spooked pet, sometimes. He needs to come on his own.

And when he does, it's always worth the wait.

Brendon has learned a lot about patience. He kind of loves Ryan for teaching him that.

Fingers brush over warm skin, stroking back and forth. Brendon lets his hand splay across the small of Ryan's back, thinking idly about how perfectly the heel of his hand fits in the small curve there. He feels the approach of Ryan's face rather than seeing it, too happy and relaxed and sleepy to really keep his eyes open. Ryan starts out with kisses that are hungry and a little desperate, the way he still reflexively tries to use physical contact to escape his own head sometimes. Brendon responds with langour. Slow swipes of tongue where Ryan tries to goad him into a duel. Offering up pouty, full lips that are perfect for nipping and teasing when Ryan tries to flatten their mouths together and make the kiss hard and rough.

Gradually, Ryan's touches slow down, and Brendon smiles against his lips, hand leaving Ryan's back to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer.

The difference is subtle but glaringly obvious. This time the hunger is somehow _right,_ flames fanned just for the joy of watching everything burn bright and georgeous. Brendon shifts his hips, pressing a thigh up between Ryan's legs, letting the stifled moan Ryan makes surge directly into his bloodstream.

It might be the hundreth time they've done this or it might be the thousandth. Neither of them keeps count anymore; it's all a continuous wave of want and need, running back and forth between them. Brendon loves that he doesn't remember the details of the first time he kissed Ryan, or the first time they fucked—the memories all hazy from intermingling with countless ones that came after.

“What's your pleasure?”

It's an inside joke between them, the line stolen from Kool and the Gang's _Celebration_ and shamelessly used whenever they feel like it. They use it out in public too, for everyday things like breakfast and movies, where it automatically aquires that extra edge that flies under the radar and always leads them back here.

To bed.

Brendon kind of loves their bed.

“I want you to fuck me,” Ryan murmurs, grinding down a little harder against Brendon's leg. “And I want to push you down and fuck you too. I can't decide what I want more.”

Brendon rolls them over, pressing his hips against Ryan's to relieve some of the pressure building inside him. Ryan's mouth is on his neck, licking a path down to his collarbone. Brendon throws his head back and pushes himself up on straight arms, trying to get some distance between their bodies so that his brain remains at least partly functional.

“How about both?” he suggests breathlessly, grinding down hard and making them both moan. “We could try out the new toy you got last week?”

Ryan opens his eyes and falls back against the bed, looking up at Brendon with a very dirty smile on his face.

“I knew there was a reason why I'm this insanely in love with you,” he says, pulling Brendon's head down for sharp, filthy kisses that make Brendon's dick harden that extra fraction that marks the difference between rock-hard and positively aching. Brendon groans and breaks the kiss, rolling over to the side of the bed to pull out the nice little drawer that's been built into the frame, underneath the mattress. It was probably designed to hold spare sheets or something, but whatever—Brendon figures that creativity is a good thing.

“If I fuck you on your back, will you be able to reach?”

“Probably not as well as if I ride you,” Ryan says, taking the purple latex toy and bottle of lube from Brendon's hands. “Fuck, this looks really nice. Check out the angle of the vibrating head.”

Brendon does, and yeah, they have quite a few toys in their box now, but this one looks especially pretty friggin' sweet. He kisses Ryan again, losing himself for a few minutes in the touch of heated skin on skin. Ryan guides him up to straddle his chest, mouth working smoothly around the head of Brendon's cock as he prepares him, slicks up the toy, pushes it slowly inside.

“On your back.”

Brendon obeys, all capacity for independent thought gone and replaced with spiralling circles of _more_ and _now_ and _please_ as Ryan keeps a hand between his legs, moving the toy in teasing little circles to find exactly where to press. Brendon doesn't waste any time as Ryan straddles his waist, working Ryan open quickly with shaking fingers, becuase, really, they need to be fucking now. Like _right, right now._

He bites his lip hard when Ryan eases himself down on his cock, little whimpers escaping from the back of his throat as Ryan starts to move his hips, riding him with long, steady movements. Brendon reaches out, runs his hands up and down Ryan's back, chasing the little beads of perspiration forming on the beautiful skin with the tips of his fingers. He slides his hands down Ryan's sides, rests them on his hips for a while, holding Ryan down so he can thrust in deeper, harder, making Ryan shudder and cry out above him.

Ryan reaches down and twists the dial of the vibrator at nearly exactly the same moment as Brendon lets his right hand slide around Ryan's hip, wrapping it tightly around his cock and beginning to stroke. Ryan ups the tempo of both hands and hips, riding Brendon hard and fast while fucking him relentlessy, panting and moaning and just thowing himself into it. He's everything Brendon's ever wanted, a wet dream come true with his head thrown back and hips working furiously. The hand between Brendon's legs twists the toy a little, and the angle is suddenly so, so perfect, the plastic head pressing up just hard enough, vibrations travelling through him, and that's it; Brendon is fucking _gone._

They collapse on their sides afterwards, Brendon still half-way inside Ryan as they lie spooned together on damp sheets.

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” Brendon mumbles, burying his face in Ryan's neck. “Like, even when I can't see your face, I can't stop looking.”

Ryan takes his hand and brings it to his lips. Brendon can feel a smile brush across his knuckles.

“Happy Valentine's Day,” Ryan whispers, and there's still no edge of distance or sarcasm there. Brendon presses a warm kiss into Ryan's neck in reply, humming quietly.

'Happy' doesn't even come close.


	3. Ryan/Spencer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby!Spyro with power rangers. (G)

“Spence, you have to help me.”

Spencer looked up from the picture he was drawing, where he was carefully outlining a really cool ray gun in a blue power ranger's hand. He'd seen it in the toy store window when he was at the mall with his mom the day before, and it was really, really cool. Spencer kind of wanted it more than anything in the whole world.

“What?” he asked, and maybe he sounded a little snappish, but really. He needed to get the drawing done so he could start on his math problems. Miss Turpin had said that whoever finished their problems first would get a special treat. Spencer liked special treats.

“You have to help me,” Ryan insisted, sitting down right in front of Spencer and pulling at the bottom of his pants. “Seriously, Spence, I'm going to _die_ if you don't help me!”

Spencer reluctantly put away the drawing, because, okay, Ryan was his best friend and Spencer didn't want him to _die._ They had plans to try to build a fireworks rocket together this weekend. He definitely wanted Ryan around for that.

“What's the problem?”

“I need you to be my Valentine.”

Spencer frowned. Then he kicked Ryan lightly in the shins.

“Very funny.”

“No, Spence, I'm serious,” Ryan said, eyes huge and pleading. Spencer huffed. Ryan's big eyes might work on his mom and most of the teachers, but Spencer knew him too well to fall for that. Maybe.

“Why do I need to be your Valentine?” he asked. “Can't you, like, ask one of the girls in your class or something?”

“I _did,_ ” Ryan whined. “I asked Meghan Matthews, and she said yes and everything, but she's home sick today, and now I'm going to be the only one in my class who doesn't have one, and everyone's gonna laugh at me and I'm going to _die._ Please, please, please, Spence. You're my best friend in the whole world.”

Spencer weighed the words in his head. Ryan did seem pretty desperate.

“Yeah, okay,” he said reluctantly. “But I don't need to like, hold your hand at lunch or kiss you or anything, right? Because I know you're supposed to do that when you're in love, but, you know, _ew!_ ”

Ryan shook his head violently. “No, no, it's fine,” he said. “Miss Jackson actually told us no kissing, because of something with the cold? Did you know you could get sick from kissing? So weird, I know.”

“Really?” Spencer said, and now it was his turn to feel his eyes grow too big. “Like, really sick? Do you think the flu bug lives in someone's mouth and like, jumps out and attacks the face of the person you kiss? Like in that movie my mom wouldn't let us watch?”

Ryan looked rather alarmed. “Maybe?” he said. “Oh my God, gross!”

Spencer nodded. “Best not to kiss anyone ever,” he said solemnly. “To, you know, be on the safe side.”

“Yeah,” Ryan agreed. “Definitely. Besides, Forrest in grade four said that he kissed Lindsey in the parking lot once. He said it was really wet and weird. Nothing special at all.”

“Grown ups kiss a lot though,” Spencer said thoughtfully. “Like my parents. They kiss pretty much all the time.”

“Mine don't,” Ryan said. “Maybe it's a thing grown ups have to do, but not exactly the same, you know? Like, my dad was telling me about how grown ups have to pay taxes, which is like money, right, but how some people, like him, get something called distillaby instead, and then they don't have to pay. Maybe it's the same with kisses?”

Spencer thought this over. It seemed pretty logical.

“Yeah maybe,” he said. Ryan beamed.

“So will you sign my Valentine's card?” he said, digging into his back pocket and pulling out a small, red square. “Miss Lindon had us make them for art, and there are two hearts, see?” Ryan unfolded the red paper, showing Spencer the cut-out-and-pasted pink paper hearts inside. “And you're supposed to write your names there,” he explained. “To show that you love each other. And I love you more than anyone, even Meghan Matthews, even though she has the prettiest clothes _ever_.”

Ryan looked up at him, suddenly shy and a little hesitant.

“Do you love me, Spence?” he asked, holding out the card in his small hand. “Because I really do love you. I love you best out of everyone.”

Spencer took the red card from Ryan's hand and picked out a purple crayon. It was really the best colour in the box. That and the blue one, but he needed to save what was left of the blue one to finish the drawing of the power ranger. Ryan would understand. Power rangers were cooler than _anything_. Definitely a lot cooler than _love._

He wrote his name carefully into one of the hearts in block letters. It looked really good. He was proud of how well he could write his name now. Maybe soon, he'd be able to write whole sentences and little stories the way Ryan could. Ryan had shown him a story he'd written for English last semester. It was about a cat that ran away and a red balloon that chased after it, magically finding the cat and letting it fly home when it was too tired to walk. It was really an awesome story. Spencer sometimes got jealous of the fact that Ryan was a whole year older and could already do so many things.

“There you go,” he said, handing the card back to Ryan. “And I love you too, just so you know.”

Ryan borrowed the crayon and wrote his own name in the other heart, smiling all the while. He put the card back in his pocket and stood up, wrapping Spencer in a quick hug before heading off to go back to his own classroom.

“Happy Valentine's Day, Spence,” he whispered as he pulled away. “Thanks for saving me. You're the best.”

Spencer shook his head as he watched Ryan sprint out of the room. He picked up his drawing again and took out the short stub of blue crayon. Really, that ray gun was so the coolest thing ever. He really, really needed to convince his mom to let him have it. How far away was his birthday, again?

Maybe Ryan could show him how to count days.


	4. Ryan/Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beer, pizza and cuddles on the couch. (T)

“Keltie and I broke up again,” Ryan says when Jon opens the door. Jon doesn't reply, just moves aside to let Ryan in, shifting a couple of jackets to make more room to hang Ryan's coat.

“You don't seem very surprised?”

Jon just shrugs, because, no, he isn't really. They're all used to the Ryan/Keltie on-and-off routine by now. Jon figures that Ryan will realise the inevitable conclusion of that sort of dynamic sooner or later.

“Want a beer? I was going to call out for some pizza and pig out on the couch.”

“Sure, thanks.”

They go into the kitchen, getting a couple of beers each from the fridge and choosing toppings for their pizzas. They discuss the upcoming tour while they wait for the delivery guy. Apparently, Brendon is dead set on having animals on stage this time, which, _no._ Jon's uncle worked on a dude ranch down in Texas for about ten years. Jon knows all about how much work and how dirty large animals are. No matter how cool it would be with a small pony jumping through hoops.

They take their pizzas and move to the couch. There's only some kind of semi-interesting re-run on, so they lower the sound and keep talking. Jon likes talking to Ryan. They don't get that much time one-on-one when it's all four of them together. Spencer has dibs from being the best friend and Brendon steals as much time as he can by wrapping himself all around Ryan and hogging all the cuddles. So when the pizza boxes are empty, Jon rearranges them on the couch, lying down comfortably with his head on the armrest, pulling Ryan up to sprawl mostly on top of him.

It's nice. Really, really nice.

“She called me when I was in Victoria's Secret,” Ryan says. “Trying to pick out something nice for Valentine's Day while at least five girls were staring at me. It was just surreal.”

Jon makes a humming noise and starts carding his fingers through Ryan's hair. He's not-so-secretly glad that the straightened and styled emo hair is gone; without styling products, Ryan's hair is soft and wavy, perfect to wrap your fingers in. Ryan sighs and wriggles a little, getting more comfortable, enjoying the attention.

“I actually had this idea to ask her to move in with me,” Ryan continues, words half-muffled against Jon's shirt. “Crazy right? I mean, it hasn't really been working for a long time, but for some reason I thought that if I took the next step, things would somehow work out, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jon says, because he can understand that. He tried keeping him and Cassie together with much the same strategy: mostly-empty grand gestures that just could never measure up to having someone who was actually _in_ your life, sharing it with you on a daily basis. They made it as far as Christmas the year before. Jon still misses her smile.

“I just don't want to be alone again,” Ryan says, sounding a little surprised himself to hear the words fall from his mouth. “God, how fucked up is that? I have people _stalking me_ and thousands of complete strangers telling me how much they love me at every show we play, and I'm scared of being alone.”

“I think we're all scared of being alone,” Jon says, hand still playing in Ryan's hair. “But things could be worse, you know. You have at least three people who love you like crazy, and getting rid of us would take a shitload of paperwork, so I'd say you're pretty good.”

Ryan curls himself a little tighter around him, and Jon lets his other hand come up to stroke up and down Ryan's back and arm. On the TV, the re-run has turned into some kind of 90s movie with lots of cars exploding. Jon finds the remote and turns it off. Silence is good too. They're close enough friends to be able to handle situations where nobody is talking.

“Thanks, Jon,” Ryan mumbles against his chest. “How is it that you always know exactly what to say to people? It's kind of creepy, you know.”

“It's my secret superpower,” Jon replies lightly. “That and I can totally see through walls. Very handy skill in seventh grade when we had PE at the same time as the girls and the locker rooms were right next to one another.”

Ryan chuckles. Then he does something else, which Jon really did not see coming.

Ryan kisses him. Just like that. No lead ups or warnings, just lifting his head from Jon's shoulder and sliding a hand around his neck as lips meet lips and Ryan's mouth opens softly against his.

It's a really good kiss.

Ryan opens his mouth a bit more, and then there are tongues involved; lazy sweeps that warm Jon's blood, make his breath catch a little and cause the hand Jon has on Ryan's back to slide up and tangle in the brown hair with the other one, keeping Ryan close as the kiss goes on.

They kiss for what feels like hours, just touching and tasting without really feeling the urge to take it further. They're both hard against each other, sometimes even grinding up or down a little when something feels especially good, but there's no hurry in their movements, and that feels kind of almost ridiculously amazing.

They break apart when Ryan yawns into Jon's mouth, and Jon smiles, guiding Ryan's head back down to rest on his shoulder. Ryan snuggles into him, the same way he always does when he's about to fall asleep, and that's totally fine as well. Jon turns his head, registers the time from the glowing numbers on his DVD-player. 0.13 AM. He nudges Ryan with his nose, presses a kiss into his hair.

“Hey, Ry? Happy Valentine's Day.”

Ryan doesn't reply, but his right hand finds Jon's left, fingers intertwining on top of Jon's chest.

Jon falls asleep with a smile on his face.

The coming tour should be pretty awesome.


	5. Brendon/Spencer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teen boyfriends in LOVE. (T)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [](http://sunsetmog.livejournal.com/profile)[**sunsetmog**](http://sunsetmog.livejournal.com/)'s fic [_If Music Be the Food of Love_](http://sunsetmog-fics.livejournal.com/31469.html), which is one of my favourite Brendon/Spencer teen!fics. <3

It's their first Valentine's Day together, and yeah, maybe Brendon goes a little bit overboard.

But.

It's his first _Valentine's Day_.

Where he's not alone.

And where _Spencer Smith_ is his boyfriend.

As far as Brendon's concerned, there is nothing he could do for Spencer that could ever be too good for him. Because Spencer is made of awesome and hotness, and Brendon is kind of ridiculously in love with him.

That said.

Maybe he went just a _tiny bit_ too far on this occasion.

***

“Oh. My. Fucking. God.”

Spencer kind of freezes right at the entrance of the living room ( _their_ living room—how cool is it that their album is actually making enough money so that Brendon can have a place to live that has an actual bathroom? _Inside the appartment._ And how much cooler is it that Spencer stays there with him so much that his parents have started to drive them both back here after dinner whenever they go to Spencer's house, without even asking?). Brendon takes in the expression on Spencer's face and the way he's swaying a little. He looks kind of terrified.

“Happy Valentine's Day!” Brendon hurries to say, pulling Spencer into his arms for a bunch of really wet kisses while he presses them up against the doorway. Kissing usually works well whatever mood Spencer's in. Which is totally fine with Brendon, because, hey, _Spencer Smith._

“Brendon, what did you _do?_ ”

Spencer's voice is weak, pretty close to what he usually sounds like right after Brendon has made him come for the second time or so in less than an hour. It's a voice Brendon very much likes.

“It's for you. Because it's Valentine's Day, and you're my boyfriend, and I kind of love you more than anything.”

Spencer swallows and untangles himself from Brendon's arms, taking a few careful steps into the room, like someone walking into a cage of especially hungry lions.

Yeah, okay, so maybe the balloons were a bit too much. But they were _sparkly,_ okay? And _heartshaped_. And _pink!_ And Brendon really can't resist any of those three qualities. Spencer should know that by now.

Spencer walks around the room, taking in the scattered rose petals all over the couch and chairs, the heart-shaped box of chocolate on the coffee table, the glitter confetti strewn all over the floor, the sparkling wine sitting in a red plastic bucket filled with ice (they didn't have real champagne coolers at the local Minimart. How was Brendon supposed to know that?), and, yes, the heart-shaped, pink, sparkly balloons.

Two hundred and sixty-three of them to be exact. One for every day that Spencer's been Brendon's boyfriend.

There's kind of not that much space left in the room.

Maybe he should have thought about that.

“It's okay if you don't like it,” Brendon hears himself say when Spencer's been quiet for a really long time. “I mean, I was hoping you would, but if this isn't your thing, I can totally think of something else.”

“Brendon...”

Spencer turns around, facing Brendon again, and there's a look in his eyes that Brendon doesn't recognise as ever really having seen before.

“Brendon Boyd Urie, you are totally ridiculous,” Spencer says, pulling Brendon close and kissing him until they're both close to fainting from actute oxygen depletion. “This,” Spencer says, gesturing at the room in large, “is like a whole room filled up completely with little pieces of _you._ How could I not love it?”

They're kissing again, and maybe there are some clothes being peeled off and tossed into random piles on the floor too. They were in the way. Brendon figures they deserve it if they get dirty and wrinkly.

Making love on a hard-wood floor covered in silver confetti is not the most comfortable thing Brendon's ever done, but Spencer's kissing him and touching him and breathing things like _I love you,_ and _Brendon,_ and _Oh God, holy fuck_ into his neck, so Brendon can't really bring himself to care that much.

“I got you flowers,” Spencer murmurs when they lie sprawled and boneless together on the floor. “White tulips. Mom said that they will last for a really long time if you keep cutting the stems and putting them in the fridge overnight. I thought they were pretty. Made me think of you. They're in a vase in the kitchen.”

About half of Brendon wants to immediately run off and check. The other half is reminding him that his legs are sort of not working at the moment and that being curled around Spencer on the floor is a really, really awesome way of passing the time.

The sorry-no-legs-part wins out (at least for the moment, Brendon is totally planning on getting up and draging Spencer with him to the bedroom once his brain comes back online) and so Brendon opts for more kissing instead. They can get to the other parts later.

Brendon totally has a really great plan for that too.


	6. Brendon/Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> High school AU. Band geeks with weed. (T)

Band practice is scarcely populated on Valentine's Day. You would think that kids who dress up in sparkly yellow and green uniforms with hats that have tassles on them to walk in pre-defined patterns with a trumpet (or worse, a tuba) at regular intervals would also be the kids who do not have dates to spend Valentine's Day with curled up on picnic blankets in the school yard.

But no, apparently not. Jon doesn't really know when or how that mysterious shift in the universe came about, but as it is, there is only one other kid in the music room when Jon arrives. Brendon Urie. The guy who plays the accordion. And guitar, and bass, and piano, and percussions, and ukulele, and violin, and the trumpet/french horn/clarinet if the people who usually play those things are not there for some reason. Jon wouldn't be surprised if there are more things that can be added to the list. Brendon seems to just have a talent for knowing exactly how any given instrument _works_ and how to get it to sound like he wants it to. Jon thinks it's pretty awesome.

“What are you doing here?”

Brendon doesn't sound aggressive, just genuinely bewildered. Jon smiles.

“We're supposed to have practice. Seems like it will probably be cancelled though, huh? I mean, not even Mr Chambers is here.”

Brendon looks at him as though he's still trying to make sense of two plus two suddenly adding up to five.

“But, you... Shouldn't you be on a Valentine's Day date?” he asks finally. Jon shakes his head.

“Nope,” he says. “No date. I'm all alone and unloved by everyone in the world.” He keeps his tone light. Yeah, so of course it would have been nice to be sitting out in the sun kissing somebody he really liked instead of being in class, but he's not really bothered by it. The weather is surprisingly hot and dry, even for Las Vegas, and Jon has handed in both his science project and the book review for English class. His life is pretty good at the moment.

Brendon mumbles something under his breath and then blushes furiously. Jon's smile widens.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, come on. There's no one here. Tell me.”

Brendon just shakes his head and blushes some more. Jon decides not to push. If Brendon doesn't want to talk, that's his thing.

“Wanna hang out behind the gym and smoke some weed?”

Brendon's eyes light up straight away. Jon congratulates himself on his fabulous instincts. He always knew Brendon Urie was a cool dude.

***

“I swear. It's totally true.”

Brendon dissolves into another bout of unstoppable giggles, practically collapsing against Jon's side.

“I just can't believe it,” Brendon wheezes between laughter attacks. “I mean, it's _Patrick,_ dating the captain of the soccer team. Holy shit!”

“The universe is out of whack somehow,” Jon confirms wisely, taking another hit from the joint they're sharing between them. “Like this thing with us. Neither of us is anywher near being the dorkiest or ungliest kid in Band, and still we are the ones left without dates on Valentine's Day. That kind of sucks actually. You didn't do something horrible in the past few days to piss off the universe, did you? Like, I don't know, pullute a clean little lake or something?”

Brendon looks affronted. Or as affronted as someone can look when they're high and giggly and maybe have a little piece of twig in their hair from where they were lying back on the grass earlier.

“Dude, don't say stuff like that,” he exclaims. “Pollution is not a joke. It's a real problem. Ryan's been writing really good aricles about it lately.”

Jon wracks his brain and manages to come up with a fuzzy memory of seeing large headlines in angry print in the school paper. _The End of the World!_ the top of the article had read. Jon had kind of zoned out after that, because as far as he was concerned, if the world was actually ending, then a) there ought to have been some kind of direct impact on Jon's life, and b) there wouldn't be much he or anyone else could do about it.

He shares these last thoughts with Brendon, and they discuss environmental politics for most of the afternoon. They also smoke quite a few joints. Jon is all loose and mellow and cuddly after the first one and thus really doesn't mind when Brendon loses his balance and practically falls into his lap. Brendon laughs and rolls over on his back to get more comfortable, head resting heavily on Jon's thigh. Jon looks down into the laughing face, with its huge, dark eyes and beauiful mouth, and thinks _what the heck?_

Brendon kind of squeaks when Jon bends down and kisses him, jerking his head back on instinct. The only thing he accomplishes by that is to press the back of his head more or less directly into Jon's groin. Which, yeah, Jon could totally work with.

Jon keeps his hands around Brendon's face until the other boy relaxes and starts to tentatively kiss back, careful and hesitent, as though it's Brendon's first time kissing someone else for real like this. It might very well be, Jon thinks. He was the only kid besides Jon in the whole school (or just in Band, whatever) without a date on Valentine's Day, after all.

“So, Jon says when they break apart, “Wanna go to the movies with me tonight? I hear there are a some really good ones on, and if you go as a couple on Valentine's Day, they give you free popcorn.”

Brendon just stares at him for a long time. Then, just as Jon opens his mouth to take back the invitation, Brendon smiles. And wow. That is a really gorgeous smile.

“I'd love to,” Brendon says. “I'll totally be your Valentine, Jon Walker. If you'll be mine, that is, because being _practically_ the only kid without a Valentine is not nearly as bad as being the _only_ kid who doesn't have one.”

“Deal,” Jon says, holding out his hand for a shake and using it to pull Brendon in for another kiss. They smile at one another, big and stupid and completely baked. All in all, it's pretty awesome.


	7. GSF

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panic-as-cleaning-appliances AU. (G)

The second the door opens and a ray of morning light shines through the crack, Brendon is through it, practically bouncing out into the hallway, skidding across the hardwood floors and hitting a wall or two on his way to the living room. The humming sound starting up is pleasantly muted by the distance but still very much too loud this early in the friggin' morning. Ryan leans away from the intruding light, trying to hide his face behind Jon's soft head. Spencer's in the way though, all folded up and leaning into Jon's body, head nuzzling in the crook of Jon's neck. Ryan bristles.

“Mrhm-nugh,” Spencer protests when Ryan tries to sneakily wedge his way into the middle. “Get off, you're all prickly.”

“Am not,” Ryan insists, because he totally used that really expensive re-hydrating stuff that promised it would make him all smooth and soft last night before going to bed. He might not be sleek and pretty and all beautifully-designed lines like Spencer, but he's not a slob. He's retro-romantic, dammit, and if he can somehow get hold of one of the beautiful silk scarves he's seen lying in the top drawer in the bedroom dresser, he'll show them all just how soft-looking and gorgeous he can be.“Spencer, come on,” he tries again, nudging a little harder. “You've had Jon all night. It's my turn.”

“It's still night,” Spencer replies, pressing his body closer to Jon's. “I shouldn't have to move for another couple of hours at least. Besides, you had Brendon curled around you from head to toe until five minutes ago. It's not like you should be starved for contact.”

“Hey, guys, come on,” Jon murmurs sleepily from a little above their heads. “Sharing is caring, remember?”

Ryan gives Spencer a smug look and carefully maneuvers himself over to Jon's other side.

“Mmm, all rough,” Jon sighs contentedly as Ryan brushes up against him. “Could you scratch me a little about two inches down? It's been itching like crazy all night.”

Ryan tilts his body to slide down Jon's, scratching and touching until Jon is humming happily above him.

“You smell really good,” Jon says when Ryan comes back up, pressing their heads together. “What is that? Pine?”

“Summer Forest,” Ryan replies. “There's some kind of flower scent mixed in. Thought I'd try something new.”

“It's great,” Jon agrees, leaning back a little so that Spencer can get a sniff as well. “I wish I could have something like that. God, I just hate bleach. Even with the high you get from the fumes, the smell just lingers, you know?”

“I think you smell really good,” Spencer mumbles, burying his face in Jon's thick head of floppy strands. “There's a little bit of the primrose thing from last week, and some of that peach stuff that makes the bathroom tiles really shiny. And you smell a little bit of pine from Ryan and a little bit of spring violets from me, and a little bit of sunshine and dust from Brendon, and it's just all really nice.” He moves his head, swirvling it all around Jon, caressing him with soft, spongey touches. Ryan presses himself closer to Jon, letting their shafts rub together as they watch Spencer unfold himself and straighten out before slowly sliding down the length of Jon's spine.

Jon falls back against the wall, tilting into the touch. They're just really getting in to it when the humming sound outside quickly increases in volume and then stops, a second or so before Brendon comes crashing into the closet.

“Guys! You won't believe how many dust mice were hiding behind the couch today,” he exclaims excitedly, holding the door open with his body so as not to trap the black cord still trailing behind him. “They were all playing in the sun and drifting around because the door to the balcony was open, and me and Dusty got to chase them, and then we did an extra sweep, because it's _Valentine's Day_ today, and Patrick-the-human has a _date_ tonight, and he's all nervous and flustered, and—hey. Are you guys having sex?”

Ryan tears himself away from Jon (fuck, rubbing against him feels _really_ good) and takes in Brendon's fallen expression and the sudden slouch of the long neck. Brendon rolls a little closer, the curvy, red body coming to press against all three of them while he wraps himself around their thin frames.

“Not fair,” Brendon complains, brushing his face against Ryan's and moving in for a kiss. “Starting without me on Valentine's Day. You guys all suck.”

Brendon tastes like the dust and shunshine he's been chasing, and Ryan feels the flavours mix with the other ones around him. The door to the closet is still open, and Ryan feels as though he really is in the middle of a green forest on a warm, summer's day. (Not that he's ever seen such a thing in real life, but the pictures on the new bottle of magic cleaner are really detailed, so he can totally imagine what it would be like.)

“Speaking of sucking,” Spencer says, leaning over to kiss Brendon with a teasing smile on his face. “I have a great idea for what you could give me for Valentine's Day.”

“Will you do that thing with the spare extension where you can reach that hidden spot between my wheels?” Brendon asks in return, eyeing Spencer with a hint of suspicion.

“Definitely,” Spencer says, folding himself at the second joint to reach Brendon better. “And we'll put Ryan on the floor so that his bristles can touch you all over when you move around, and Jon'll lie on top of him with his head on your back, all soft and caressing...”

Brendon nods empathically and nearly trips Ryan over in his haste to get the wooden-floor end piece off his head. The black cord slithers out through the door, and Brendon starts humming in his chest, curling his neck to move in on Spencer, sucking teasing paths down his body.

Ryan lets himself be lowered to the floor, relishing the feeling of different textures sliding against him as Jon follows and Brendon moves in close.

Life as a broom is pretty neat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to add to my defense that I _didn't_ use the line "Dude, who shoved a broom up your ass?" or some kind of derivation thereof, okay? I _could have_ but I didn't. It should count for something, right? Right?


End file.
